


the winter solstice

by bilexualclarke (ohalaskayoung)



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, pregnant Clarke is so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she tells him that night, his hands shake as they caress her still-flat stomach. She pretends not to notice the stray tears that fall from his eyes onto her skin. He presses his lips to her stomach reverently, whispering words of love to their baby that’s about the size of a bean.</p><p>prequel to "the little piglet"</p>
            </blockquote>





	the winter solstice

The winter solstice comes, their fifth one since the established peace, and as usual it is celebrated with loads of moonshine and general debauchery. Clarke and Bellamy try to drink Raven under the table, and fail, as usual. They end up falling over themselves trying to get back to their cabin, and the door is barely shut behind her before Clarke is pressed against it, Bellamy’s breath hot on the back of her neck and his hands already working to remove her layers of furs.

She comes down with the flu a few weeks later, only this one doesn’t pass after a few days. When the test results confirm her self diagnosis, she is surprised that she doesn’t panic. But at twenty-five, she is far from the girl she was when she first landed nearly eight years ago. Her people are at peace. They have enough to eat and a safe place to live and she’ll be damned if she didn’t believe that Bellamy would be the world’s best father.

So she when tells him that night, and his hands shake as they caress her still-flat stomach, she pretends not to notice the stray tears that fall from his eyes onto her skin. He presses his lips to her stomach reverently, whispering words of love to their baby that’s about the size of a bean.

* * *

Spring comes, and as soon as the warm air hits Clarke’s sickness stops. Most mornings, instead of holding her hair as she gets sick, Bellamy wakes up to her grinding against his leg, still wet and desperate from the night before. She finds him at lunch and pulls him into the empty med bay so he can fuck her in the supply closet, or after dinner while everyone is milling about he has her pressed against the base of a tree while he fingers her, one hand clamped around her mouth to silence her screams. 

She is fucking desperate for him at all hours of the day, and Bellamy can’t quite bring himself to complain.

* * *

As soon as summer hits, things change. Clarke’s stomach seems to balloon out overnight, and Bellamy can’t keep his hands off it. Whether they’re in bed, or getting food in the mess hall, or watching Octavia and Lincoln play fight their three-year-old son in the middle of camp, his hand is always resting on the large swell, his thumb rubbing gentle circles absentmindedly.

One the hottest day of the year, Clarke practically shoves Bellamy out of their cabin to get some water from the lake to help her cool down. She is due practically any day now, and being _so. fucking. pregnant_ is uncomfortable enough without the added heat making her feel like she is suffocating. 

“There’s no comfortable way for me to sit and my ankles are too swollen for me to stand for more than a few minutes,” she complains as he gets dressed for the day, “and I’ve been sweating so much that I feel like I’m swimming in it. _Please_ , Bellamy, I just need to cool down.”

So he leaves, and a few hours later he comes back with a few gallons of ice cold lake water that will hopefully do the trick. When he walks into their cabin, he stops dead in his tracks.

Clarke had changed into a thin, so worn it was practically see-through, white nightgown. It was so sheer that he could make out the dusky pink of her nipples and the patch of dark blonde hair between her thighs. She is leaning against the window frame, her eyes closed and her head turned towards the open window, one hand fisted in her hair to keep it off the back of her neck. Her stomach stretched the fabric of the nightgown nearly to its limits, and her free hand rested lightly on top of the swell. 

Bellamy can’t think of anything he has ever seen that looked half as beautiful.

“You comfortable?” he asks roughly, hauling one bucket inside the cabin and crossing to her. 

Clarke grins up at him. “If I lean against the wall there’s less pressure on my ankles, and I’ve been getting a little breeze for the past few minutes.”

“Yeah?” he sinks to his knees before her and dips his fingers into the water bucket, then lets the cool liquid dribble down her thighs. She trembles and presses further into the wall, spreading her legs wide for him. He drips the water onto her until he sees goosebumps rise in its wake, and then he lifts her up so that her thighs rest on her shoulders and licks into her until she can’t see straight. 

* * *

“My water broke,” Clarke tells him the next afternoon, just as he walked into their cabin with a plateful of food for lunch. Sure enough, there is a small puddle on the floor with a sheet half-covering it, as if she had tried to clean it up before her contractions got too bad.

“Fuck,” Bellamy swears, immediately dropping the plate and coming to stand behind her. She is still standing, but her arms are braced on the bed and she is curled forward as contraction hits. He helps her breathe through it before straightening up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says, scooping her up into his arms. 

“It’s time to meet our little bunny,” Clarke says breathlessly, and his heart skips a beat. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah, it is.”

* * *

At dawn, her cries pierce the air. Bellamy chokes out a sob as he cuts the cord and picks up his daughter, all wet and gooey and squirming and screaming and absolutely perfect. His one hand is nearly the size of her whole body, but when he looks down at her he suddenly feels unimaginably small. Almost insignificant, compared to the celestial being in his arms.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “She’s _you_ , Clarke.”

He gently places their daughter into Clarke arms, and her cries quiet into soft whimpers. 

“Hi there, little bunny,” Clarke says softly, tracing the slope of her little nose with her index finger. “You’re so perfect, you know that? And we love you so, so much.”

Bellamy presses a hard kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “Do you still like that name we talked about earlier?”

Clarke beams up at him, her eyes red and bloodshot, tear tracks and sweat still staining her face. She’s so stunning it hurts him to look at her sometimes.

“I do.” She looks back down at their daughter, gently rubbing the soft dark fuzz on top of her head. “Hello, Amelia. Welcome to Earth.”

* * *

The next winter solstice is met with the same festivities as the year before, only this time instead of guzzling moonshine with Raven, Bellamy and Clarke are tucked inside their cabin. A roaring fire crackles from the newly-erected fireplace, making shadows dance along the walls. Clarke is tucked into Bellamy’s arm in bed, Amelia quietly nursing at her breast. 

“Tell us a story,” Clarke asks, closing her eyes and nuzzling closer into his side. 

“Which one?”

“A new one.” Amelia lets out a soft sigh in agreement.

“Alright.” Bellamy glances down at his girls and smiles, his heart swelling up so much he fears it might just burst out of him. 

_“There once was a girl who feel from the sky who held the sun in her hair…”_


End file.
